


My Brother's Keeper

by Lothiriel84



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's all alone now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brother's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after 2x03.

He’s all alone now. Cut off from the world, like he supposes the dead must feel – if they weren’t actually dead, that is.

No one sees him as he stands in a dark corner, attending his own funeral. John is crying, as is Mrs Hudson, but he can’t reach out to them; they’re better off hurt than dead, that’s what he keeps telling himself as he walks away. Lestrade doesn’t cry, but he looks like he’s just buried his own brother.

He waits three more days before contacting Mycroft. It doesn’t take his intelligence to figure out who betrayed him to Moriarty; there’s only another person who knows him so well, and John would never do anything of this kind. His dearest brother might as well stew in his own juice a little longer; if he didn’t need his help to get out of the country, then Mycroft wouldn’t hear from him at all.

That night he breaks into the family residence, curls up in his old bed and finally surrenders to sleep. He dreams of Molly, bringing him coffee at the lab – black, two sugars.

He hasn’t had a cup of coffee in ages now.

 

* * *

 

Mycroft doesn’t attend the funeral. Part of him is sure that Sherlock isn’t actually dead, but there’s a tiny seed of doubt nagging at the back of his mind that simply refuses to go away.

What if his little brother has really taken his own life, all because of how stupid he’s been?

He’s made a terrible mistake, underestimating a criminal mastermind like Moriarty; of course there was a reason why the man craved to hear every little detail about Sherlock’s life, when he finally put the pieces together it was far too late.

If compared to this, Sherlock’s slip with that Adler woman is nothing but a trifle. His brother has been able to fix it in the end, while he’s not sure he can fix the mess that is his own making.

He checks his phone every five minutes, though he knows Sherlock would be more careful than contacting him this way. Then one morning he stops before his brother’s old room, his instincts prompting him to crack the door open.

Sherlock is fast asleep, his head resting on his left hand like he used to do when they were kids.

He perches on the edge of the bed, brushing a stray lock from his little brother’s forehead.


End file.
